


Induction

by windsweptfic



Category: Captain America (2011)
Genre: Hypnotism, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-04
Updated: 2011-08-04
Packaged: 2017-10-29 01:02:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/314117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windsweptfic/pseuds/windsweptfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a <a href="http://capkink.livejournal.com/810.html?thread=182314#t182314">prompt</a> at Livejournal's capkink community: 'pre-serum!Steve/Bucky, hypnosis'.</p><p>Now <a href="http://jarithka.livejournal.com/235506.html">available in Hungarian</a> via the lovely <a href="">Jarith</a>!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Induction

"Why don't you just let me try?"

From his rather uncomfortable-looking sprawl on Steve's cramped sofa, Bucky let out a quiet snort, burrowing deeper into the faded cushions. He was still in his uniform, cap pulled over his eyes and jacket unbuttoned, his boots kicked off sometime between the front door and the sitting room. Steve had needed a ride back to Brooklyn from a doctor up in the Bronx—another failed attempt to prove his medical conditions weren't all that life-threatening—and Bucky had promised to pick him up. And because he was Bucky, he'd been there right after he was done with training, backing up his word with only a mild amount of ribbing.

"It's not going to work, Steve," Bucky mumbled, his voice muffled by the arm thrown across his face. "I'm not that kind of gal."

Steve let out a patient 'tsk'ing sound, shaking his head.

"You've seen it work on the men down at the bar, you know it's not coercion or a trick of some kind."

"Those men were also drunk off their asses," Bucky pointed out, shifting enough that he could peer out from under his arm with one eye. Steve sat down in the armchair across from him and he finally dragged himself into the semblance of a sitting position, pulling off his hat and rubbing at his face with one hand. Bucky was great at hiding things from most people: lying through his teeth about being okay even when he'd just broken an ankle, or after he'd busted his head open and couldn't see straight.

But Steve wasn't most people—and he could see the tension weighing on his friend's shoulders. Ever since the war had escalated, Bucky had been gone longer and longer during the day for training, the Army trying to push out new recruits as quickly as possible. He'd showed up with more cuts and more bruises than Steve ever would have liked, and he hadn't seen him without dark circles beneath his eyes for weeks.

"C'mon, Buck," Steve said gently, resting a hand on his knee. "It couldn't hurt, could it?"

Bucky eyed him dubiously. After a few moments his eyes softened, gaze going fond as he recognized the concern Steve was trying to keep from showing too obviously.

"Alright, fine," he said long-sufferingly, lips twitching only the tiniest bit. "But if you make me dance like a chicken, we're going to have words."

"Hypnotism doesn't work that way," Steve corrected him, already smiling at the possibility he might be able to help. He helped Bucky shrug out of his jacket, positioning him in the most comfortable position he could get into on the couch—and it was a testament to how exhausted he was that Bucky went without complaint or banter.

"I can't make you do anything you wouldn't do normally," he continued, pulling the armchair closer, so their knees were almost touching. "It's more like—you lose some inhibitions, but you're still you, just a little more open to suggestions. I suppose it is kind of like being drunk," he admitted.

Bucky let out a quiet laugh and looked up, then, and Steve couldn't help the sudden frisson of fear that rippled through him at the expression in his friend's eyes. Bucky was obviously tired but he was also so expectant—so trusting that Steve knew what he was doing. Steve licked his lips nervously, wiping his hands on his pants and swallowing hard.

"Ready?" he asked softly.

Bucky's lips quirked up, and he reached out a lazy hand to brush his fingers across Steve's forehead and down the side of his face, thumb brushing over his cheek with an affectionate smile.

"Whenever you are," he replied.

Steve nodded, swallowing again and trying to settle down the apprehensive anticipation flickering in his chest. He had to be in control for this to work—and it needed to work, if Bucky was ever going to lose any of the tension carved into his shoulders.

He raised his hand in a smooth, purposeful movement, laying his forefinger beneath his eye, watching Bucky intently.

"Fix your eyes here," he said. Bucky did as he was told, attention not even flickering as he followed Steve's command. There was still a bemused twist to his lips, but Steve hoped to be rid of that soon.

"Don't look away," he added, trying to keep his voice gentle and even. "Don't move, don't talk, don't nod your head unless I ask you to. Just focus on the sound of my voice, on what I'm saying. Let yourself relax. Now take a deep breath."

Steve followed his own instructions, keeping his eyes locked with Bucky's own as he raised his hand. After a tiny hitch in the rise and fall of his chest, Bucky did the same, inhaling deeply, and a little thrill fluttered in Steve's stomach.

"Exhale," he said softly, lowering his hand slowly. Bucky obeyed the order, his eyes softer, the tension around them lessened already. He wasn't really even looking back at Steve anymore—it was more as though he was looking _through_ him, staring off into a kind of middle distance that wasn't present in the room.

"That's good, Bucky," he murmured. "Now breathe again for me. When I snap my fingers, you'll wake up—but for now, relax."

He repeated the exercise a few more times, and with every lowering of his hand, Bucky's eyes slid further shut. His shoulders slumped and he sank deeper into the sofa, head nodding forward as the tension drained from his body. As he slowly unwound, Steve carefully moved closer. Once Bucky's eyes were completely shut he reached around to place his hand at the base of his neck, squeezing gently.

"Rest now," he whispered.

Like a puppet with its cords cut, Bucky instantly slumped forward into Steve's arms. His head lolled against his shoulder, hair rasping under Steve's chin, and it was all Steve could do to keep from dropping him. But he wouldn't allow that to happen—not in this; not with Bucky. He summoned his strength and managed to adjust Bucky into a better position, supporting him with his own body as he combed his fingers through his hair.

He listened to Bucky's soft, even breathing for a while, closing his eyes as warm air tickled his ear and holding onto him as long as he possibly could. But eventually his arms began to shake and he had to relinquish him back to the sofa, resting him gently against the cushions.

Steve just sat there for a few long, selfish minutes, drinking in the sight of Bucky so open and relaxed. The seemingly permanent crease between his brows had faded, and the lines around his mouth had softened, eyelids fluttering. He looked calm, content, and it warmed Steve's heart to know that he had given him that, even if just for a while. He let his eyes roam for a moment more as if he could imprint the image of innocence onto his mind—a word he would never usually associate with Bucky, but couldn't help but think of. Not with Bucky's dark hair mussed and falling across his forehead; with his lips slightly parted and eyes peacefully shut.

"You don't get how beautiful you are, do you?" Steve said softly, tracing his fingertip across the backs of Bucky's knuckles. "You think you know, but you don't. Not really."

Bucky made a little humming noise in the back of his throat and Steve jerked his hand away, panicked, just then realizing what he'd been saying. He cleared his throat hastily and leaned forward, touching his friend's chin gently.

"Look at me."

Bucky's eyes slid languidly open, bright blue and almost achingly peaceful. He focused on Steve immediately, and the trusting expectation in his gaze made Steve's breath catch in his throat, choking him for a stunned moment.

"That's good," he rasped at last. "How--how do you feel? Are you more relaxed now?"

"Yes," Bucky replied with a soft smile, still looking at Steve with that almost adoring expression. He'd never had that reaction from anyone he'd tried to hypnotize—it was mostly just a party trick, when he actually was invited to parties.

But then, Bucky never had been just anyone.

"Alright," Steve said, laying his hand back atop Bucky's. His skin was warm to the touch, body loose and pliant against the sofa. "I want you to think of the most peaceful moment in your life. The happiest you've ever been. Settle into the memory, okay? Describe what you see."

"You," Bucky replied immediately. His eyes focused on Steve with an almost uncanny intensity, and Steve's breath stuttered in his chest.

"Me?" he repeated in a small voice.

"Central park," Bucky continued blissfully, as though he hadn't said anything. "We were waiting for the carnival to open. I wanted to take you to a burlesque show so I could see you blush."

Steve turned red right then and there, remembering that day in question. Bucky had said at the time that they were just going to go play some shooting games and win a few gaudy prizes. To his credit, they had—well, Bucky had—but then they'd 'accidentally' stumbled into a burlesque show that Bucky had insisted they stay for, out of curiosity. Steve had spent the rest of the time there trying to sink into his seat, avoiding looking anywhere but at his shoes and ignoring the dancing look in his friend's eyes.

"There were fireflies out," Bucky recalled distantly. "We were lying on the grass near the lake, and you fell asleep on my shoulder—It was a warm night, and you just drifted off. The grass itched after a while, but you looked so peaceful. So happy. I didn't want that to end."

"Oh," Steve breathed. He swallowed hard, pinned to the armchair beneath Bucky's fond gaze. They had been friends almost as long as he could remember, and he'd adored Bucky the entirety of that time. Just the idea that Bucky might have felt the same way made his heart clench and swell almost instantaneously.

He licked his lips nervously, trying to summon the courage to ask the next question.

"Was there anything that you regretted that night? Anything you wished had happened?"

Bucky was moving before the question was even complete, surging forward off the sofa. Steve squawked, scrambling backward; terrified that something in the hypnosis had gone horribly wrong as Bucky pressed him against the armchair, leaning down over him.

Then he reached out, tilted Steve's chin up, and kissed him.

Steve could swear that the world stopped in that moment. His brain ceased to function, his heart skipped a few beats and his breath caught in his chest, and all he could recognize was Bucky. Bucky's chapped lips against his own, Bucky's fingers on his skin; Bucky's body hovering protectively above him. Steve lifted a hesitant hand to comb through his hair, eyes fluttering shut as he let himself just revel in the sensation.

"So that's what you'd wanted all night?" he whispered hoarsely when Bucky finally pulled away. Bucky shook his head, slowly, and Steve's stomach plummeted to his feet.

"No," Bucky replied quietly. "I wanted you to kiss me."

Steve stared.

Bucky waited, patiently, sitting there with his heart in his eyes—and the trust in his gaze was utterly, completely terrifying. Steve hastily raised his hand, panic rushing through him as he snapped his fingers directly in front of Bucky's face.

The effect was immediate. Bucky blinked, jerking back in disorientation as he was yanked out of the hypnosis too quickly and too soon. He sat back on the couch, shaking his head blearily as Steve scrambled to his feet.

"Steve? What…"

"I'm sorry," Steve blurted. "I shouldn't have—there are lines, and I—I didn't mean—I should go—"

" _Steve._ "

Steve nearly swallowed his own tongue as Bucky's fingers wrapped around his wrist, keeping him from leaving—his own apartment, no less—and he finally managed to meet his friend's gaze. The trust from before was still miraculously there, but now there was an edge to it: a fear, a vulnerability that Steve rarely saw him show.

"Don't," Bucky said softly, and all the words he'd been able to say while hypnotized but couldn't say now were held in that one word. A plea for Steve to stay, to believe him, to understand—everything Bucky had meant before and more.

After another frozen moment Steve finally relaxed, slumping back down in the armchair. Bucky let him go slowly, reluctantly, allowing him space. He didn't meet Steve's eyes and that absolutely killed him, that he might have irrevocably broken Bucky's faith in him. This changed things, and Bucky didn't know how much they had changed, or how—only that his true feelings were out there in the world to be examined and brought to light, if Steve so wished.

"If you didn't want that," Bucky began lowly, but Steve interrupted him, raising a hand to forestall the words; to keep his friend from asking him to stay quiet, because Bucky should never have to ask that of him. He should never have to doubt Steve's loyalty.

"All I need to know," he said quietly, "Was if that was really you talking, and not the hypnosis."

He knew, intellectually, that it had to be. That Bucky had spoken the truth. But this was also _Bucky_ : this was his best friend and the one person who was always there for him, and Steve would die before screwing that up.

Bucky's eyebrows twitched in a frown, and he finally looked up at Steve, if just for a moment. There was no mistaking the emotions there: the same feelings that had been present while under; the same love and faith that Steve knew he didn't deserve. But all that was quickly shut away as Bucky closed himself off, averting his gaze as a muscle twitched in his jaw. He nodded silently.

"Okay," Steve breathed. He stood up, Bucky's attention snapping back to him as he knelt on the sofa over him, straddling his hips gently. He had just a brief glimpse of Bucky's eyes widening before he leaned down to capture his lips with his own, kissing him firmly on the mouth as he twined his fingers in Bucky's regulation-cut brown hair.

It only took a moment for the stiffness in Bucky's shoulders to fade away, going completely relaxed as he reached up to place his hand at the small of Steve's back. He was open and pliant and just as peaceful as he'd been while under hypnosis, as if this was what he'd always wanted; as if this was all he'd ever needed to let go.

When they pulled apart Bucky was panting, softly, his eyes soft and fond and tender. After a moment he reached up to pull Steve's head down, kissing him gently on the forehead.

"Okay."


End file.
